


Just Outside The Door

by MsHermia



Series: Irondad/Spiderson Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Hurt Peter Parker, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Nightmares, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Sleep Deprivation, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lives, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsHermia/pseuds/MsHermia
Summary: Peter did it. He found his mentor and brought him back, but sometimes it all just seemed too good to be true. Sometimes, his mind played tricks on him and he just couldn't sleep, wondering if he had really brought Mr. Stark back or if it had all just been a desperate dream.Whumptober Prompt No. 23 - What's a Whumpee Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around HereExhaustion |Narcolepsy| Sleep Deprivation
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Irondad/Spiderson Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971784
Comments: 13
Kudos: 96





	Just Outside The Door

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using my own Fix-it to Endgame "Like You'd Know How It Works" as a basis for the timeline, though the prompt will work fine without having read that story. The important part is, that Tony's not dead.
> 
> Baseline: a few days after Tony is brought back from the multiverse.

His room was dark. In fact, the entire house was dark as it should be at 1 o'clock at night. Dark and quiet. It wasn't the darkness that bothered Peter. It wasn't total darkness. After all, the light of the moon still shone brightly enough for him to make out the little imperfections in the paint on the ceiling. The moonlight and his enhanced senses. It was the quiet that bothered him, that made his chest seem a little too tight, his breathing a little ragged. It had been just 3 days since Mr. Stark had enhanced the walls in the upstairs bedroom and ever since when Peter was lying awake at night, when a nightmare pulled him out of his sleep in the early morning hours like it had the past days, he couldn't hear his mentor anymore. 

Mr. Stark was just a couple of doors down. Logically, he knew that. Logically, he was... he was pretty certain of that. And while Peter had always stopped himself from listening in on anything too _personal_ , there was just a sense of calm that came over him when he heard him turn in his bed, the low snores he sometimes pushed out, the steady beat of his heart. He would have to concentrate and really listen for the familiar rhythm but once he would pick it up, he'd be okay. He'd remember that Mr. Stark was right there, well, and very much alive. 

But not anymore.

There was only silence in his room now unless you were to count the frantic beat of his heart and the deep shaky breaths he sucked in and blew back out. It hadn't even been a nightmare this time, not truly. He hadn't really fallen asleep in the first place. Exhaustion was tugging at the edges of his consciousness and that's where his thoughts had started to spiral.

Mr. Stark was okay. Peter was... he was pretty sure of that. He had succeeded, had brought him back home and now he was okay. But there was a little voice in the back of his head that kept nagging, that kept telling him that maybe... maybe he was wrong. Maybe it had all been a delusional dream, too good to be true, Peter wishing something into reality that was unobtainable. He had seen his mentor die after all. He had died right in front of him, the memory etched into his memory, right there whenever he closed his eyes. Dimensions, time travel... was that really real?

A cold shiver ran down his back and before he knew it, his legs had swung off the bed, silently carrying him to the Stark's bedroom door.

Peter was highly aware that this was a little inappropriate at best and highly creepy at worst. Only for a moment. He wouldn't stay for long. He just needed a few minutes to... to quiet the nagging doubts that were persistently working its way up from the back of his mind overwhelming any rational thought.

As he sunk down to the ground and came to sit his back leaning on the frame, he pressed his ear against the door. There were just enough sound waves vibrating along the sturdy wood for him to hear. It had been a little pathetic how he had come to realize that. How three nights ago at 4 o'clock in the morning he had stolen out of his room and crawled up to the door, out of his mind in panic from the nightmare that had roused him. He had clung to the wood and heard the soft snores on the other side that hadn't been Pepper's.

He could hear them now too, both of them. Peter closed his eyes, letting the noises from the room wash over himself and calm his nerves. Two healthy hearts beating almost in union, deep breaths - a little elevated maybe but nothing critical - and Mr. Stark's low raspy voice, only a whisper. He couldn't quite tell what his mentor had said but the corners of his mouth twitched as Pepper breathlessly giggled in response. They were fine. Mr. Stark, he was right there, talking and moving around if the creaky sounds of the bed were anything to go by he was—

Peter's eyes popped open wide and with a fast push, he shoved himself away from the door. There had been so much force behind his movements that he slammed into the sideboard that stood right opposite the Stark's bedroom door. His heart was beating loud in his ears but his senses were dialed up all the way. He could almost feel Pepper's vases on top of the sideboard swaying back and forth from the impact. Thank god for his senses. His hand reached out faster than his thoughts could follow and caught the first vase as it tumbled towards the ground. He caught the second one, too, but well, despite the spider bite, he still only had two arms to work with.

The third vase fell to the floor and exploded into a thousand pieces just next to him.

For a brief moment, Peter was frozen in shock. For a brief moment, he thought maybe... maybe the soundproofed walls would save him. Maybe nobody had heard.

There was a little light that streamed into the hallway from the Stark's bedroom. "Pete?" His mentor's voice was raspy as his head peaked through the open gap, looking down at him. "You... you okay?"

Peter hurried, his face hot with embarrassment as he tried to gather the shards in the low light of the hallway. "Sorry... sorry!"

"What... what happened? Why are you out here in the dark?"

"Nothing, I just... just needed the bathroom and... and bumped... just... bumped this."

Mr. Stark cleared his throat. "You know, that room of yours has an en suite."

"I... I didn't..." Peter's hands were shaking, his thoughts racing. "I meant... meant kitchen. Just wanted— fuck!"

"Hey, you okay? FRI, lights 30%."

He leaned towars him and reached for Peter's hand. The low light from the ceiling was enough to reveal the dark blood flowing along his skin where he had just cut himself on a pointy porcelain shard.

"Is everything okay?" Of course, Pepper had to poke her head out of the door as well.

"Everything's alright. Go back to bed, darling." Mr. Stark's hand on his shoulder pushed him a little, a clear sign for Peter to get on his feet. "Come on. Kitchen then."

Pepper gasped. "Peter, you're bleeding!"

"It's fine, darling. I'll take care of this." Mr. Stark pulled him towards the stairs. "You... just... just go to sleep."

Mr. Stark exchanged a look with his wife, his face almost apologetic while Peter's was on fire. He hesitated only for a second though before he followed his mentor. Definitely preferable to have only of the two adults hover over him in the kitchen than both of them in the hallway. There was enough light now for Peter to easily find his way towards the stairs and then down to the kitchen. His heart was beating in his throat as he desperately racked his brain for an excuse.

"Little more light, FRI." FRIDAY didn't answer, just followed Mr. Stark's order. "Run that hand under some cold water and then take a seat, buddy."

"Right," Peter muttered.

The cold water was soothing the sting on his hand. The shard had cut the index and middle finger on his left, the two middle parts, and then there was a deep gash in his palm. It was bleeding freely now and Peter watched almost mesmerized as his blood was swirling down the drain mixed in with the water. The cut was deep enough to hurt, nothing that his body wouldn't be able to deal within a day or two though, three max. Mr. Stark had put down a paper towel for him next to the sink. When Peter's face felt it had mostly regained his original color again, he pressed the paper towel against his hand and shuffled onto one of the bar chairs at the kitchen island.

His mentor had his back turned while he had halfway vanished into the pantry. A little red first aid kit in his hand, he joined Peter at the table. His head was bent, not looking up at the man in front of him. His thoughts were racing, trying to think of something, some kind of excuse as to why he was wandering around the house in the middle of the night, something better than the vague bathroom-kitchen excuses he had blurted out in the hallway.

"Having trouble sleeping, hm?" It was a rhetorical question, that much was clear. Mr. Stark's hands were busy rummaging through the kit until he came up with a couple of anti-bacterial wipes, gauze, and some medical tape. "What's on your mind, kid?" His voice was low and calm, making an effort to keep the mood light.

It didn't change anything about Peter's heart racing of course. Didn't do anything about the blood pulsing in his ears. "I wasn't... I wasn't trying to..." He sounded pathetically breathless even to himself. "I just... I happened to... to walk by and then I just—"

Mr. Stark's hands were warm. They felt even warmer with the chill that the water had left Peter's hand with. One hand curled around Peter's wrist then squeezed him. "Kid, you know I can tell when you're fibbing."

"I... I'm just..."

Another squeeze of his arm and Peter looked up, finding his eyes waiting for him. "Nightmares?"

He couldn't lie, not when Mr. Stark had that piercing look in his eyes. "Just... just the usual."

His mentor cocked his head only a fraction to the side. "Titan?"

Goosebumps spread through him starting at his nape down his back, then along his arms. Even Mr. Stark could feel it for his eyes flickered down to where he was still holding Peter's wrist, then back to his face.

"It's... it's not that," Peter whispered. It wasn't even a lie. It hadn't been the orange dust ball that had kept him up, not tonight.

"Kid..." Mr. Stark blew out a breath, eyebrows pulled closely together.

"I... I swear, it's... it's not!" He almost flinched back at that look in Mr. Stark's eyes that gleamed an awful lot like disappointment.

Mr. Stark looked away from his face only long enough to find a piece of gauze and replace the soaked paper towel, applying firm pressure to his wound. "You don't sleep."

"I _do_ sleep, tonight was just—"

"Your vitals tell a different story, Pete," his mentor interrupted.

Peter's mouth popped open. There was something other than adrenaline and embarrassment rushing through his veins now. Shock and... and a pinch of betrayal. "You... you have FRIDAY monitor my vitals? Karen?"

"Both of them, actually." Mr. Stark didn't look away from him, only gave his shoulders a slight shrug. "Do I have a choice?" Peter would have turned away from him if he hadn't still been pressing the gauze to the cut in his hand. "You were snapped and then went on a trip through the Quantum Realm. Of course, I'm monitoring your vitals."

"I'm fine!" His voice was squeaky. He sounded fake even to himself.

"Pete... Talk to me. Is it nightmares or is it something else?"

"Can we just... I don't _want_ to do this right now."

"Alright." Mr. Stark looked away from him. He pulled the blood-soaked gauze off Peter's hand and replaced it with a fresh piece.

This seemed too simple to be true but Peter was going to take it. "O-okay. Good."

"FRI, schedule a call with Helen for tomorrow morning. We need an appointment for Peter. CC Rhodey and... and might as well let Rogers know."

"No. Mr. Stark—"

He shook his head, eyes on Peter's hand. "You don't have to talk to me about all this. That's fine. You'll talk to someone though. You'll not go out there until this is resolved."

"What? You can't be serious...." Peter pulled his hand away from him at last.

"I am."

"Are you grounding me?"

His mentor's eyes were on him as he shrugged his shoulders then sighed. "I mean not like... to your room just out of the suit."

Peter got to his feet. "But Mr. Stark—"

"You won't be out there Avenging anything until you've talked to someone about what happened the last time you went out there. That decision's final."

His hand forgotten, Peter paced back and forth between the table and the sink. It wasn't until he rubbed his hands across his face with a frustrated grunt that he remembered the cut. He cursed freely, not just because of the sting in his hand but because he had rubbed blood all over his face. Shaky hands turned on the faucet and for a moment, he was almost thankful for the mishap that had forced him to wash his face for his eyes were burning with frustrated tears.

"Kid, come and sit with me." His voice was way too calm, it riled Peter up even more.

"I don't want to!"

"You don't want to sit with me?" He could almost hear in Mr. Stark's voice how his eyebrows must have been pulled up high, his head cocked a little to the side.

"I don't want to talk about this with Rhodey, or Doctor Cho. Definitely, _definitely_ not with Rogers! It's none of his business!"

"Kid, come on..."

"No!" He turned around, facing him. "You don't get to make those decisions anymore! You're retired!"

"I'm not _that_ retired!" The men went for a light-hearted smirk that surely was meant to calm Peter but only infuriated him more.

"Yes! Yes, you are!"

"Are you firing me from being your mentor?"

Peter froze. Mr. Stark's voice wasn't all that soft any longer and the gravity of the situation suddenly hit Peter all at once. "N-no. No, I—"

"Well, it's not like I want you to talk to them instead of me, but if you don't want to talk to me you leave me with very few options, Peter."

"I'm fine. I... I promise it's—"

"You sat in front of my bedroom door in the middle of the night, Pete." Mr. Stark shook his head.

"I was... was just being... stupid. I just... just overreacted a bit, I don't—"

"Kid... Come." He pointed at the bad stool next to him. "Come and sit."

Peter swallowed hard. This was so dumb. What had he been thinking? His head bowed low, he slowly shuffled back over to the table and let himself fall back onto the chair. Mr. Stark took his hand again and pressed another fresh piece of gauze onto his cuts. The bleeding had slowed considerably, but Peter couldn't deny that it made him feel a whole lot better how his mentor literally held his hand through all this. It was a little pathetic and childish, but also... also grounding and soothing.

"I... I can't sleep," Peter whispered.

"I know, buddy." His other hand squeezed his lower arm. "It's okay."

"I do... I do have nightmares but it's..." He blew out a breath, eyes still low on his hand. "Sometimes, I just can't... can't quite tell what's a nightmare or... or a dream and what's real and if... if all this now, if... if this is just the dream. That's.... that's the worst part."

His lower lip was caught between his teeth and Peter risked a quick look to find his mentor's eyes shining with concern, waiting for him to continue.

"I can't..." He shook his head. "This is so stupid. It's... I'm just being dumb, you really—"

"Hey..." Mr. Stark's hand cupped his face and tilted it up so Peter's eyes would meet his. "You are not being dumb and none of this is stupid."

"I..." Peter tried to swallow the tears that were threatening to overcome him. "I can't... hear you anymore. Since you... since you soundproofed the walls."

"Yeah, well..." Mr. Stark frowned at him. "That... that was sort of the point, kid."

"I... I know. It's just I..." He turned his eyes to the side, hating how the teardrops were already hanging onto his lashes. "When I wake up and then I don't... I don't hear you then it's like... like before. Like you're.... you're not here and I just... I can't... I can't." He couldn't stop himself from blinking any longer and at last, the tears fell heavy onto his cheeks. "I'm sorry. It's weird. I know, it's super weird."

"Is that why you were in front of our door?"

He wanted to pull away but Mr. Stark still cupped his face, unwilling to let him retreat even an inch. "It's... it's stupid. I don't..."

"Shhh, stop saying that." His hand moved from Peter's face to his neck and a quick tug pulled Peter into a tight hug.

He pressed his eyes tightly shut, his voice muffled against Mr. Stark's t-shirt. "I can... I can hear you there. Right... right at the door, I'm close enough even with... with the soundproofing. I can still hear you there."

"I'm right here, buddy." His hand was on the back of Peter's head, the other one squeezed his hand almost too strongly. "I'm not going anywhere."

They stayed like that for a while. Peter leaned heavily against him, hiding his tears in the tight embrace. Mr. Stark didn't do much other than hold him and from time to time whisper to him that they would be okay, that he was back now, and how everything would be alright. He repeated those words over and over again like they would stick the more times he'd say them. And maybe that was true. Maybe that was why Peter's pulse slowed down, why his tears dried against his mentor's shirt, why he calmed enough for Mr. Stark to get back to treating his hand.

Mr. Stark nodded to himself. "Okay, so here is what we'll do from now on." The antibacterial wipes burned and he froze at Peter's hiss. "Too much? You okay?"

Peter cleared his throat. "I'm fine," he croaked and then grimaced at the sound of his own voice. "Really, I'm fine."

"I know it burns a bit but it's just a moment and we can't have this get infected, okay?"

"I know, Mr. Stark. Just... it's fine."

Peter's eyes were turned down watching as the men wiped the large cut a couple more times, before he first secured gauze over it, then wrapped it in a bandage and proceeded to tape the two smaller cuts on his fingers.

"Okay, two things... Pete, can you look at me?"

"Right," Peter breathed, his eyes finding his mentors.

"First of all," Mr. Stark blew out a bit of a sigh. "I think we need to transition away from that 'Mr. Stark' of yours."

His eyes went wide. "But, Mr. Stark—" Peter bit his tongue.

His mentor on the other hand flashed a crooked smile. "Yeah, I thought you might try to fight me on that one."

"I'm not..." Peter shook his head, eyes still round. "I'm not fighting you, I just... it's... you're... you're my mentor and—"

"I am and I'm happy to mentor you for as long as you'll have me." The soft expression on Mr. Stark's face was comforting and pulling at Peter's nerves in equal measure. "Kid, I'm not really worried about any lack of respect from you going forward. It wasn't..." He blew out a low huff. "It wasn't my intern that I missed those past years. Though... it's not that I didn't miss that part, I mean..." He crossed his arms in front of himself, eyebrows raised. "It was more work than reward trying to teach Morgan to carry a cup of coffee down here, I can tell you that."

Peter snorted out a light laugh and rubbed his good hand across his eyes.

"It wasn't my intern or... or Spider-Man who I missed, just... just my kid. Just you, Pete."

12 days. Not even 12 days, that was how long his mentor had been lost to him. 5 years? Peter couldn't, well... maybe he could. In a way. He didn't want to think of Ben now though, of his mom and dad.

His mentor blew out a low sigh. "Also, Morgan has started to call me 'Mr. Stark' and just... try with 'Tony'? Please?"

Peter bit his lip, then shrugged. "What if she starts calling you Tony then?"

"Well..." He shrugged. "I just thought that going from 'Mr. Stark' to 'Daddy' might be a bit much to ask of you."

Peter couldn't contain the nervous laughter that bubbled out of him. "I'll never call you that. That's just... no way!"

His mentor's smile stayed on his lips but Peter could shake the feeling that there was an air of disappointment between them.

"That's okay, buddy. Let's stick with 'Tony' then, hm?"

"Right," Peter breathed.

"The other thing... your nightmares. I... I can't really... I can't have you lurking in front of our bedroom door for reasons that... that we don't have to get into right now." He grimaced and Peter could have sworn there was a faint red flush on his cheeks. "But if you can't sleep or if you wake up and you need me—"

"It's... it's fine, Mr—" Peter pressed his eyes close with a cringe. "Tony. It's fine, really, I was just—"

"Hey." His mentor had leaned forward, both hands on Peter's lower arms. There was no hint of humor or reserve in his features now. "This is not a polite offer, kid. This is an assignment. Instructions to be followed."

Peter swallowed hard, his voice cracking. "Yes, Sir."

He didn't even flinch at all as the honorific slipped over Peter's lips, just stared right at him. "I _want_ to help you. I want to be here for you, whenever you need me. That's why you brought me back, right?" His eyes were searching Peter's face for a reaction. "You said that you all still needed me. Morgan and Pepper. And you. That's why I came with you, kid."

Peter's eyes were burning, the memories still fresh from how he had begged and pleaded with Mr. Stark to trust him, to abandon his mission and come back home with him.

He squeezed Peter's arms, his face still tense. "I want you to tell FRIDAY when you have these nightmares or... or when you panic. I'll find you. I'll sit with you."

"You don't..." He shook his head at the very idea. "You don't have to sit with me."

"Pete..."

"I'm not a kid anymore!"

"You are my kid, kid..."

Peter's mouth fell shut at that. Mr. Stark's voice was soft, so earnest.

"Just let me help you."

"Okay," Peter breathed.

"When you're not here, when you're at May's or anywhere else, I want you to call."

Peter nodded, his eyes on his mentor's hands. They were still closely curled around Peter's arms but he couldn't deny that it felt more grounding than restricting.

"Promise me."

Peter sucked in a shaky breath before he looked up. "I do, I... I promise, I will."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Mr. Stark's hand reached up and rested on Peter's cheek just long enough for Mr. Stark to nod at him. "Okay, buddy. Come on then."

Peter didn't have to ask what his mentor was up to, he had a pretty good idea of what would be happening now. His head bowed, he followed along, back upstairs to his room, his thoughts still circling around his mentor's order. That's what it had been, not an offer, not even a request. It had been left unsaid between them what would happen if Peter didn't ask for help, but he could make an educated guess that those consequences would not just be discussed between the two of them.

His bed was cold as he slipped back underneath the covers. Mr. Stark— Tony had closed the bedroom door behind Peter and pulled a chair close to his bed. His feet crossed and elevated on Peter's bed, he had sunk into the chair, one hand resting on the top of Peter's head.

The house was quiet now. His room too, except for the beat of his own heart and that of his mentor. The idea had seemed excessive and childish but now that Peter was lying in the dark, Mr. Stark's fingers knotted in his hair, he couldn't deny how easy it was to close his eyes. How easy it was to remember that Mr. Stark was here, alive and well. How all that pain and loss was in the past now.

He had just wanted to blow out a deep breath to settle himself but it wavered in his throat, came out like a bit of a whimper.

"Shhh." Mr. Stark's fingers rubbed back and forth over Peter's scalp. "I'm right here."

"I... I know." Tears rolled off his face into his pillow as Peter pressed his eyes close, his focus on the weight of his mentor's hand. His voice was shaky but what did that matter now? "I'm just... just happy you're back."

"Me too, buddy," he whispered. "Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> I finally managed to write an actual One-Shot. A little amazed with myself, not gonna lie ;)
> 
> Hope you liked it! More Whump and more for this timeline will come soon!
> 
> The Fix-it this is based on: [Like You'd Know How This Works](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699736/chapters/44349406)


End file.
